Runny Eggs and Soupy Muffins
by DanielFactoid
Summary: [complete]After TOW Unagi, Chandler must apologize to Monica. Chandler's POV, Oneshot.


"Runny Eggs and Soupy Muffins"

Genre: General, Romance, Humor

Rated: K+

Pairing(s): CM, of course

Summary: After "The One with Unagi", Chandler's got to work hard to redeem himself in Monica's eyes. Chandler's POV.

AN: This little plot has been nagging me like a fly. It's cute, I hope; much inspired by "TOW Monica's Lesson" (I adore that fic). I'm a huge Chandler fan, and I hope I find my Chan-Chan man someday, and in the meantime, I can't help but to write Mondler. As for "TOW Unagi"- I think that's sixth season, but I'm not sure. Just pretend it is, so they're not engaged.

In "TOW Unagi", Monica and Chandler decide to make their Valentines Day presents instead of buying them. Both forget, and Chandler digs up a tape from their closet and says it's a mixed tape with romantic songs on it. Monica thinks this is sweet and, seeing as she didn't make him a gift, says she'll "cook anything he wants in there, and _do _anything he wants in _there_" until it is later discovered that it's a tape Janice made him for his birthday. Monica's a little pissed.

To anyone else who much appreciates Chandler's jokes. What, that's a strange dedication?

XXXXXXXXXXX

No one told me that being in a relationship with Monica Geller was going to be a living hell. Don't get me wrong- I love her. A _lot. _But when you're a world-class idiot, you're bound to screw up big time- and that's when you end up on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, twiddling your thumbs, and thinking these thoughts.

Yeah, I definitely messed up with the tape thing. Everything she said through our bedroom door was true- me taking advantage of her, lying to her, et cetera. The only question is…

How do I get her to forgive me?

Believe me, it's not going to be easy.

-

"I think you're wrong."

"I'm telling you Phoebe, they're fighting," Joey whispered back to Phoebe as we all ate breakfast in me and Monica's apartment, "Look, Chandler obviously slept on the couch, he's all slouchy from scrunching up-"

"You _do_ know we can all hear you?" I said in an aggravated tone.

Joey looked up at me, and then back to Phoebe, whispering, "And he's taking it out on me-"

"Why don't you just ask them?" Rachel asked, giving me a very small smile.

Rachel can be downright evil. She _knows_ both of us have an insane amount of pride and _hate_ talking about our relationship problems in front of everyone else. I swear, I think she does it just for gossip.

There was a pause and Ross finally asked, "So… are you fighting?"

"Why would you ask?" Monica said sharply from across the table, glaring at me instead of Ross, who'd asked the question.

"Maybe they noticed that your eggs are extremely runny today," I muttered, poking the liquid eggs with my fork.

Monica gasped, "Excuse me!"

"Yeah, can I have a cup? I'd like to drink my eggs this morning!" I found myself shouting. Which is rather ridiculous, considering she's the one who has the right to be mad at me, not the other way around.

"Well, if you don't want them, then don't eat them!" she yelled back, and then grabbed my plate, still loaded with food. She dumped the food in the trashcan and put the plate in the sink, breathing heavily as she stared at me, as though daring me to come up with something as good as throwing away slightly runny eggs, two pieces of toast, and some bacon.

"You can have mine," Rachel whispered, and pushed her untouched plate in my direction, looking the other way.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, and instead crossed my arms, "No thanks, Rach. I don't like to eat puke."

Monica's eyes widened and she stomped back into our bedroom, slamming the door. I suddenly had four pairs of eyes on me. With a frustrated grunt, I stood up and shouted at the direction of the door she'd just disappeared into, "Well, I'm going to work!"

A shout came back, "It's SATURDAY, you idiot!"

I could think of nothing to say to this, so I sat back at the table, resisting the urge to make faces at the door.

"I change my mind," Phoebe said, "I think they're fighting."

Joey didn't reply; he was too busy looking forlornly at the trashcan. Then he turned back to me, "Why didn't you tell her I would have eaten it?"

-

"So, what's up with you and Monica?" Joey asked me when we were back in his apartment. He was digging through his fridge, looking for the mustard.

"You know, you can go to our apartment and get our mustard," my nose wrinkled as he triumphantly held up a bottle of yellow mustard with unnatural green specks. "You know what? Never mind… you're probably better off eating the stuff with mold… you might grow a brain as a side effect."

He gave me an annoyed look and closed the refrigerator, pouring the mustard onto his large turkey sandwich, "I can't go into your apartment, Monica's having the little 'girl talk' thing, getting Phoebe and Rachel on her side. Like now. You're trying to get me on your side."

Before I could say anything, Ross walked in. "Hey, I've got a message for you," he said. "Monica says her eggs aren't runny and that you get the couch again because you insulted her cooking. And she said something about a tape, but I've got a really bad memory so I don't know what exactly that was about… we just started talking about it."

I frowned, "Are you talking to Monica with Rachel and Phoebe?"

Ross nodded and ducked out of the room, closing the door and leaving Joey holding his sandwich in the air, dripping mustard on the floor. He turned back to me, "Man, that _sucks_. Even Ross is talking girl talk with her. Why's Monica mad at you, anyway?"

I sighed and sat down on a stool. He followed suit, sitting across from me and listening as I explained the mixed tape incident.

"And you're trying to get me on your side," Joey said as I finished, shaking his head and brushing crumbs off his pants- he'd finished the sandwich, "You don't have an argument- if we were in court, you'd be goofy."

"I'd be 'goofy'?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at his stupidity.

"You know. You committed a crime. You're goofy, not innocent."

I closed my eyes and opened them again, "_Guilty_, Joe, not _goofy_."

"Whatever, dictionary man. If I wasn't your best friend, I'd totally be on her side."

I shoved away numerous sarcastic comments and instead focused on the more important matter at hand, "I know it's my fault, I'm not looking for people to join my side or anything, I just need advice on how to-"

"Thank god, because I really need some bologna and you guys have it," Joey said, relieved. He jumped up and left, leaving me to groan in impatience and drop my head into my hands.

-

"Chandler Muriel Bing," a voice said slowly from behind me.

I spun around quickly and sighed as I saw Phoebe glowering down at me, "Thank god it's you, I need your help."

"Mm hm, mm hm, or perhaps you just need to totally insult me too?" she said sharply.

"No, no, no, no! I really, really need your advice!"

Phoebe sighed, but I could tell she wanted to help. Finally, she sat next to me on the couch and waved her hand, gesturing me to explain what I needed help with.

"I'm guessing Monica told you the whole story?"

"Yes."

"OK. What I need is advice on getting her to forgive me."

Phoebe sighed and leaned in, whispering something in my ear. My eyes widened and I jumped back, "Phoebe!"

"I'm just saying-"

"No! I don't need hints on how to give her more pleasure in bed!"

Phoebe raised her eyebrows, "That's not what she said."

I was speechless.

"I'm just joking, Chandler!" Phoebe said quickly, and my heart started beating again, "But you're going to have to fix this on your own."

"Noooo," I moaned as she began to stand up. I clung to her arm desperately, "I need your advice, O Wise One! O Helper of the Losers! I need help!"

Phoebe detached me from her arm, "I _do_ like the names, but I promised her I'd let you do this on your own."

As she left, I fell flat on the orange couch. So much for receiving help in discovering the secret to making a woman no longer mad at you.

-

"What are you doing?"

Monica emerged from our bedroom the next morning and I held up a muffin tray overenthusiastically, "_I _made muffins."

She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, "You _what_?"

"Yeah! But, um, I don't think they're cooked all the way… actually, I know they aren't done because there's batter dripping all down the sides. But they're muffins!"

She sighed and walked over to me, "How long did you put them in for?"

"Five minutes."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head unbelievably. A smile twitched at her lips as she said, "Chandler. The recipe says _fifteen _minutes, not five."

I glanced back at the open book and turned back to her, rather embarrassed, "Ahh… that would make sense. But hey, you know what this means?"

She shook her head.

"We are so meant to be together, what with your runny eggs and my soupy muffins! We could open an entire restaurant dedicated to half-liquid, half-solid foods!" I exclaimed, and thought, for a moment, that she'd forgive me because I was being unbearably cute and funny. But I'd made one mistake.

I mentioned her damn eggs again.

I winced as she walked to the fridge and began making her own breakfast (not that anyone could blame her for not wanting to eat my liquid muffins). Still holding the muffin pan in the air, I asked delicately, "It was the egg insult, right?"

"Chandler, sit down," she suddenly said, and without hesitation I placed the muffins on counter and sat at the table. She sat across from me. "It's not the egg insults… though those aren't helping!" she added, and then continued, "Look… I'm just really hurt and upset that you lied to me and used me."

"Me too!" She gave me an odd look and I explained, "I'm upset that _you're _upset."

"But _you_ made me upset."

"_Exactly_."

"OK, you're not making any sense."

I tried to explain, "Look, Mon. I am _so sorry _that I did that and that I insulted you and took advantage of you, but I've apologized like a million times-"

"Four times."

"Okay, I'm exaggerating a little, and you're clearly not in an exaggerating mood," I paused as she looked away from me and back to her hands, "But why can't you just forgive me? I mean, I've been a jerk before, you've forgiven me then!"

"Chandler, this is different. This is the most I've been upset in the time we've been together, and I can't just let it go like it didn't matter," she said shortly and stood up again, heading towards the fridge, the conversation clearly over.

I sighed and leaned all the way back, rubbing my face. This required a professional.

-

"OK, Rach, you're her absolute best friend. Spill the beans."

Rachel ate another potato chip and wiped the crumbs off the black barcalounger, and smiled her sweet but secretly evil smile at me, "Chandler Bing is on his hands and knees, begging me for help. I feel powerful… is this what it's like to be Monica when you're feeling horny?"

I sent a frustrated look her way, "Seriously, help!"

"Monica told me not to."

"Come on, I'll do anything!"

Her smile widened, "Anything?"

"Absolutely anything!" I reconsidered and added, "As long as it's not dirty."

She rolled her eyes, "Yes, of all the men in this city, I want Chandler Bing for my dirty things."

"So…?"

"Fine… but you can't tell Monica I helped, or else she'll get mad at me, and unlike you, I'm not going to have the advantage of make-up sex and I'll have to deal with the wrath of Monica for years to come!"

"That's fine, just help me!" I said, pulling up a stool and sitting across from her as she folded the bag of the chips and placed them on the floor, crossing her legs and leaning in as though she were about to tell him a wonderful secret.

"Okay, get ready…"

-

I suppose I had no choice other than to trust Rachel. She was, after all, Monica's best friend; if anyone would know how to fix this, it'd be her, not the idiot who'd created the mess in the first place.

Step one, Rachel had taught me, was setting the mood. She said for my particular issue that I shouldn't go for romantic; I was, after all, trying to get her to forgive me, not trying to get her into bed (though Joey, who'd walked in the apartment in the middle of our conversation, had insisted that that must be the final purpose of my apology).

"Just try to be down-to-earth with her. She's really upset about this, and to comfort her and apologize to her, you need to be you," she said.

Step two was extremely important, she warned me.

"Women love surprises and passion," she had said as I had held on to her every word, "But what they love even more is honesty. Which means, when you apologize, do it in a way that says: 'Hey, this was _me_. It's creative, it's personal, and I spent time on it because I love you. Don't try to sound like someone else.'"

-

"Hey," Monica greeted me as she entered our apartment, holding several bags and placing them on the floor, shrugging off her coat and putting it on a chair. She frowned as she saw something on the table. She held an envelope in the air and asked me, "What's this?"

"That's-that's an envelope," I answered rather lamely from the couch.

"Helpful," she muttered before taking a piece of paper out of the envelope. I sat rather nervously on the couch as she read the paper. After a few moments, she slowly walked over to the couch where I was sitting, looking down at my shoes. She sat down next to me and said, "Do you mean everything you wrote?"

I looked her in the eye like Rachel had said to do, "Yes."

"OK then," she murmured, and then said, "I accept your apology… but what do you mean that I should never talk to Phoebe about our sex life?"

"Whole other story," I said with a smile, and sat there for several seconds, feeling rather stupid.

"Are you going to kiss me?"

"Oh! Oh, definitely…" I whispered, and leaned in, my hands moving up to the sides of her head and our lips met and the kiss deepened.

Quite suddenly, I remembered Rachel's deal. Reluctantly, I broke the kiss and stood up. "What are you doing?" Monica asked me in wonder.

"Hold that thought, right there," I said, and dragged my feet to the door and yanked it open. I took a breath and yelled into the hallway, "I LOVE BOYBANDS AND I'M PROUD OF IT!"

Rachel's head appeared from apartment 19, grinning. I stuck my tongue out at her and closed the door, racing back to the woman that I loved.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Heheehehe. I just wasn't in the mood for sappy, I've got to tell you. I wasn't even in Mondler mode, I was more in a Chandler mood, and I LOVE writing Rachel/Chandler friendship almost as much as Mondler. Please review, it rocks when you do that…. Also, go watch a Matthew Perry movie, they really cheer you up. I just watched "Three to Tango" again and I was laughing and crying the entire time… Matt's character talks about how 'picture-perfect" his ass is during one scene and I was like "well, DUH!"


End file.
